


(Not so) Broken

by levi_cas_tho



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Character, Castiel centric, Dean is a Softie, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levi_cas_tho/pseuds/levi_cas_tho
Summary: Castiel is slowly beginning to understand that there is something fundamentally wrong with him. Well, something other than the fact that he’s a failure in general. He was already well aware of that.No, this problem is something of a much… different manner. It has to do with human feelings.Or rather, a lack of human feelings. One feeling in particular, really.*****In which Castiel is concerned about his lack of sexual attraction, Dean is actually good at feelings for once, and everything might just turn out alright in the end.





	(Not so) Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy asexual!Castiel fics, and figured I'd give one a shot. Set in an undisclosed time in the canon verse. It starts out with short scenes detailing Castiel's reflections over time, then moves into longer scenes focusing on his relationship with Dean. Hope you enjoy!

Castiel is slowly beginning to understand that there is something fundamentally wrong with him. Well, something other than the fact that he’s a failure in general. He was already well aware of that.

No, this problem is something of a much… different manner. It has to do with human feelings.

Or rather, a _lack_ of human feelings. One feeling in particular, really.

It is to Castiel’s understanding that human’s feel sexual attraction. This feeling is a type of longing, a burning, an irresistible urge for something that the human body demands. At least, that’s what he’s heard sexual desire feels like. He’s never actually experienced it, and therein lies exactly the problem.

He is, of course, an angel. At first he thought this may be the root of his problem, but upon greater inspection it has become clear that this is simply not the case. He already experiences other human emotions to such a degree he often feels helpless against them, and yet there has not been even an inkling of the fire others claim to have felt when aroused.

Maybe he simply hasn’t had the opportunity to experience such a feeling yet. Only time will tell, and besides, between helping the Winchesters and the plethora of other issues, he doesn’t exactly have time to dwell on this topic. He brushes it aside—there are more important matters to attend to.

\------

Castiel is currently seated in the passenger seat of the Impala, listening dutifully as Dean describes his most recent sexual escapades. Wind is blowing through the open window, ruffling his hair and gliding smoothly against his face. It’s summer, which means that Dean’s freckles have been especially prominent lately. To be honest, Castiel would much rather be looking at them than the passing scenery, but he resists the temptation. He knows his staring tends to make Dean uncomfortable.

Dean finishes his recounting of the events and shoots a glance at the angel. “Man, you have no idea how fucking amazing that night was,” he says wistfully.

Cas’s brows furrow as he frowns. “No,” he agrees slowly, “I suppose I don’t.”

That statement causes Dean to give him a considering look. “You know, I’m sure you’d have no problem scoring a lay for the night. I mean, I know the hooker thing didn’t exactly go well, but we could give it another shot, maybe hit up a bar sometime soon. I’ll even play wingman.”

A mild sense of disdain washes though Castiel. “I appreciate the offer, but I have no interest in such activities.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “You sure, buddy? Cause let me tell you, the feeling of a warm body wrapped around you? Sliding against your own, making you all hot inside? There’s nothin’ else like it.”

Castiel squirms slightly in his seat. “I… I would prefer not to discuss this further.”

Dean huffs an amused laugh at his discomfort but mercifully changes the subject.

Castiel does his best to ignore the feeling of disgust squirming its way through his stomach. Maybe he is simply, as Dean often calls him, a ‘prude’.

\-------

To his understanding, sexual attraction is a key part of romantic relationships. It entwines with all else that love entails.

Commitment, intimacy, passion—those are the pillars to romantic love.

This fact comes to his attention while he absentmindedly skims through a book on cupids that he discovered in the bunker’s library.

The problem is, he had _thought_ he had known what romantic love was. He was sure of it. Because what other word could possibly encompass his feelings towards Dean Winchester?

It was certainly different than the type of love he felt towards Sam, and so he assumed that it was undoubtedly romantic. Why else would he be so enraptured with Dean’s soul, his beauty?

Why else would he be inspired to give up his home and betray his own family for the sake of one man? Why else would he want to hold dean, to cradle him, to shield his fragile human form from all that is bad in the world?

And yet here is this book, forcing him to rethink what he has basically built his entire existence on.

All because of that one word. _Passion_.

\-------

The one experience that gives him any kind of hope is his memory of the pizza man and the baby sitter.

While his mind did not understand what it was viewing, his vessel had still reacted. Furthermore, he felt no disgust or discomfort—only confusion and curiosity. That reaction surely means that there is hope for him, right?

It’s a good sign.

But he is also painfully aware of the fact that his reaction was purely physical. He felt no pleasure, experienced no desire. He whisked away evidence of how his body responded with a thought. Surely someone else, someone normal, would have—no pun intended—taken hold of the situation.

He hadn’t even considered that course of action at the time, likely in part due to his naivety. But even now that he was aware of this method of dealing with male erections, the thought of trying it on himself didn’t appeal to him at all. Quite the opposite, really.

It is concerning, to say the least.

\-------

Castiel is selfish.

He has long been aware of his dislike for Dean’s sexual intimacy with others. The mere thought of Dean with another invokes a rather unpleasant feeling in his chest, one of anger and sickness and wrong.

Take, for example, this moment. They are at a bar, having just wrapped up a case. They got to the vampire just in the nick of time, and for once, everyone emerged unscathed. (Everyone _except_ vampire, of course.)

Sam felt that their success called for celebration, a reward for a job well done, and so here they are.

To Castiel, this feels like anything but a reward.

Dean is flirting.

The hunter has found himself a prime target for the night: a college age red head with curly hair and a curvy body. And by the way the woman is acting, she certainly doesn’t seem to mind being on Dean’s radar. They are over by the bar and oh, great, now they are kissing. Of course.

Castiel glowers at the pair from their booth, ignoring Sam’s sympathetic wince and attempts to distract him. Every fiber of Castiel’s being urges him to stride over and wrench the two apart. To show everyone that Dean is _his_ and his alone.

These thoughts are shockingly unfair of him, not to mention illogical, for when he pictures himself in the place of her and all the other faceless women Dean has wooed into his bed, all he feels is unease. At best, these images invoke a feeling of… detachment.

But shouldn’t imagining those types of scenarios be pleasurable? And if he truly doesn’t love Dean as he was so certain he had, why does his being with others upset him so?

Castiel sighs and shakes his head. He will never understand humanity.

\---------

At times, Castiel can almost detect this… tension, between Dean and himself. There’s some sort of charge between them, and electric current of sorts. So many unspoken words and feelings and desires.

At least, that’s what Castiel _thinks_. He’s not very skilled in interpreting these types of things.

But there are signs—subtle ones, yes, but there all the same. The subtle touches Dean grants him from time to time. The way he can sometimes feel the hunter’s gaze rake over his body. The fretting. The staring. The tension. _All of it_. He’s not entirely sure if Dean himself is aware of what is brewing between them.

He’s not the only one who notices. It has become a running joke of sorts among their enemies—Uriel, Crowley, Metatron, even Meg have all made allusions to it.

 At first Castiel thought that it was he who was being too obvious with his own feelings, but he has come to realize that there must be something more going on.

Maybe.

Like he said, he’s not entirely certain. But still, sometimes he indulges himself, and lets himself feel that small sliver of hope.

\--------

It happens on a hunt.

The demon they were chasing had somehow acquired an angel blade, and well, you can imagine how that went for Castiel. Especially considering the fact that he hadn’t been prepared for the demon to have access to anything that could actually harm him. He only realized what was happening just seconds before the demon swung.

The injury itself is minor. He escaped only marred by an, albeit deep, cut near his collar bone. (The demon, of course had been aiming for his throat. Luckily, he had reacted in the nick of time.) Castiel has dealt with more substantial injuries, and now that the demon is dealt with, there is not even a flicker of fear left in his mind.

This doesn’t seem to stop Dean from worrying.

As soon as the demon was slain (courtesy of Castiel’s smiting abilities) Dean had rushed to his side, and had yet to leave it. He even went as far as to sit in the backseat with Castiel on the drive home. Once they arrived at the bunker Dean had dragged Cas to his room and pulled out the medical kit, intent on fixing Cas up despite the angel’s protests.

Which is how Castiel finds himself on Dean’s bed, shirtless, covered in blood, with the hunter fretting over him incessantly.

“Dean, I assure you, this is completely unnecessary,” Castiel says for what must be the hundredth time.

Dean, of course, was having none of it. “No way, compadre. That bitch got you good. Just—let me help you out, alright.” Castiel wanted to protest further, but when Dean moved his pleading eyes up to meet his gaze, Castiel was lost. He nodded his assent and let Dean get back to work.

Dean was meticulous in his treatment, making sure not to miss a single step. Before he was done he had cleaned up the wound, added stitches, put on anti-bacterial cream, and applied far more bandaging than necessary. Especially considering the fact that Castiel’s accelerated healing rate would take care of the wound in a matter of hours. Only once he was satisfied did he relax slightly, leaning back to inspect it one last time before moving to sit next to Castiel on the bed.

Castiel couldn’t help but notice how Dean’s hands had begun to shake. The angel caught his gaze before asking, “are you okay?”

Dean scoffed. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he said with a strained smile. Castiel shot him a meaningful look and Dean sighed in defeat. “I’m fine, buddy. Just worried, is all.”

Brows scrunched together, Castiel tilted his head. “About what?”

 “About _you_ , dumbass. You came _this close_ to dying just a couple of hours ago, and God, Cas—” he let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “I don’t have a friggen clue of what I would do without you, man.”

Warmth flows though Castiel at Dean’s words, but he reigns in his reaction for Dean’s sake. “You would move on, as you always do,” he gently reassures.

“No, Cas, that’s not—it’s different, with you. It would—god, it would be so much worse,” he says earnestly. “I don’t even want to think about how much losing you would fuck me up.”

Castiel squints at Dean, confused. Yes, he knows that for whatever reason Dean greatly values him as a friend, but Dean had lost plenty of friends before. His bafflement must have shown on his face, because Dean shook his head.

“You don’t even know, do you? How much you mean to us. To _me_.”

Dean’s gaze is so earnest, so open, that Castiel feels his breath catch. Surely he wasn’t referencing… No, that would be absurd. Wouldn’t it? Whether or not he suspected Dean may feel something for him, he had never even considered the fact that Dean might actually _act_ on it. That just isn’t the Winchester way.

Dean, likely seeing Castiel’s hesitation, scoots closer. Lays a gentle hand on Castiel’s cheek. Castiel can feel himself automatically melting into the touch, body relaxing even if his brain is in a flurry.

“Cas.” The word is a whisper, as though anything louder could break the spell. His eyes trace the bob of Dean’s adam’s apple, take in the way the hunter’s gaze flickers around nervously before stilling, meeting Cas’s eyes head on. A determined look fills Dean’s face before he resolutely states: “I need you.”

The dam breaks. Castiel is incapable of stopping himself from surging forward and capturing those plump lips with his own. Dean retaliates with equal passion, twisting his hands into Castiel’s hair to tug him even closer. A bubbling sense of happiness builds up in Castiel’s chest, escaping with an honest to God _giggle_. The sound makes Dean pulls back slightly, a baffled but amused expression on his face.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks, unable to stop a smile of his own from lighting up his eyes.

Castiel shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s just… I’m _happy_ , Dean.”

Dean snorts. “I would hope so, otherwise it would be a massive bruise to my ego. Now are we gonna make out or what?”

The kiss this time is slower, more controlled but no less passionate. Before he even knows it he finds himself sprawled out on the bed, Dean on top of him. He itches to run his hands over Dean’s smooth skin and tugs at Dean’s shirt impatiently. Dean huffs out a laugh but obliges, tugging off the offending fabric and tossing it across the room. Castiel wastes no time in mapping out the hunter’s torso with his hands, exploring all the glory spread out before him. Dean leans back in for another kiss, but stops and lets out the most delicious moan as Castiel’s fingers graze over his nipples.

Intrigued, Castiel repeats the action, applying more and more pressure to test how Dean reacts. His feeling of self-satisfaction is interrupted when Dean bucks his hips forward in seek of friction. The action causes their groins to rub together, and Castiel freezes at the sensation. Dean grins down at him. “You like that?” he teases, continuing the movement.

Castiel can only whimper, because _no,_ he _doesn’t_ like it. It feels strange, somehow. Wrong. _It’s only nerves. This is just overwhelming, and you’re nervous. That’s all._

Regardless, Castiel finds himself desperate to put a stop to it. He is attempting to figure out a plan of action when an idea strikes. He quickly uses his angelic strength to gracefully roll both of them over, so that he is now the one straddling Dean. Dean blinks up at him dazedly but offers no protests.

Relieved, Castiel shimmies down slightly to mouth at Dean’s chest. And if this action just so happens to make it so that their hips are no longer in contact—well, that’s just a coincidence. Castiel distracts Dean from the loss by returning his attention to his nipples, this time lavishing them with his mouth.

It is only once he is content with the way Dean is writhing under him that he moves further down, kissing a path down his stomach. When he reaches the waistband of Dean’s pants, he pauses. In theory, he knows what he is about to do. But he is more than a little blurry on the specifics, nor does he know how well he will handle it, considering his mild freak-out with what Dean was doing earlier.

Before he can think on it further Dean releases this desperate little whine, and Castiel knows that he has to at least try. He tugs down the jeans and boxers in one go and carelessly tosses them across the room.

He is by no means experienced in supplying ‘blow jobs’, and it takes no shortage of guidance from Dean to get it right. But soon he is at least somewhat confident in his actions, and judging by Dean’s responses he thinks it’s fair to say that he’s doing a decent job. The fact that he doesn’t actually need to breathe and has no gag reflex sure doesn’t hurt either.

Castiel realizes with a jolt that he _enjoys_ this. He enjoys giving Dean pleasure. Maybe all of his fears about intercourse and intimacy were completely unfounded. Maybe he’s not so broken after all. Filled with a new sense of energy, Castiel throws himself into his task. Every decadent sound to escape Dean’s lips fills him with a sense of pride, and before long his mouth is being filled with Dean’s release. He works Dean through his pleasure, dutifully swallows down every drop before pulling himself up with a satisfied smile.

He flops face-down onto the bed beside Dean, full of a sense of content. He is so relaxed that it takes him a few moments to realize that Dean is eyeing him expectantly. “Well?” he prods.

Castiel scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Well, what?”

A bemused look crosses Dean’s face. “Well, don’t you want me to help you out?”

“With what?”

Dean rolls his eyes fondly. “What do you think, smartass? You haven’t gotten off yet. Hell, we never even got around to taking off your pants.”

Castiel feels as though a bucket of ice has been dumped on his head. It is at that exact moment that he realizes with sudden clarity that he isn’t even hard. Yes, he found pleasure making Dean feel good, but he never once felt anything close to arousal.

Dean, seemingly unaware of his internal panic, nudges him gently. “So, what do you want? I doubt I could work up the energy for _actual_ sex, but I can help you jack off. Maybe even try to blow you.”

The thought of Dean—of anyone—touching him in that way suddenly causes a wave of nausea to rush through Castiel’s body. God, what was _wrong_ with him? Wouldn’t any normal person jump at the chance to have such an offer, especially when someone like Dean was the one offering it? Most people would be overjoyed, and here is Castiel, feeling like he is about to be sick.

“I—I—” Castiel doesn’t have the slightest clue what to say. ‘Sorry, but the thought of you touching me makes me want to vomit?’ Yeah, that would go over well. Castiel’s mouth feels dry as sandpaper as he grapples for some sort of explanation.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice is gentle, so gentle, and Castiel panics.

“I have to go.”

He only manages to catch the sudden look of alarm on Dean’s face for a split second before flying off.

\--------

Castiel is sat upon a bench in the middle of a park, head buried in his hands. Luckily, he’d had the presence of mind to zap his shirt and trench coat out of there with him when he left, but they were still caked in blood. He can’t seem to scrounge up the energy to use his grace to clean them. It’s not of import anyways; the park is deserted at this time of night, only crickets to keep him company.

Dean is praying to him.

He hasn’t stopped praying since the second Castiel had fled. The endless pleas and accusations fill his mind despite his best attempts to drown them out.

_What is wrong with him?_

Why oh why does he have to be so broken, so useless? He’s spent every second of the past several hours trying to will himself to want Dean in that way, and yet he has had no success. He tries to picture himself with Dean, lost in pleasure underneath the hunter, and yet he experiences no arousal. He is instead left with a feeling that makes him want to rub his skin raw, to get the phantom touches to his body off and away and he doesn’t know why he is so broken. Why he can’t just be normal, for fucks sake.

Dean doesn’t deserve this.

It isn’t fair to him. Castiel is well aware of the fact that Dean takes great joy from his sexual escapades, delights in bringing his partners pleasure. He deserves someone who can fill that void for him, and Castiel is clearly not that person. He considered attempting to give himself to Dean despite his discomfort, but he knows that wouldn’t be fair either. Dean deserves a partner who craves him just as badly.

Castiel _does_ crave Dean, just not in the way Dean needs.

Castiel lets out a frustrated huff. This is hopeless. _He_ is hopeless.

Nevertheless, he needs a plan. He knows he can’t avoid Dean forever, as much as he wishes he could. (No, that isn’t true. He wishes he could avoid disappointing Dean, not Dean himself. The fact is that nothing could ever make him wish to never see Dean again.) He also knows that when he does return, Dean will be angry. He can tell that much from the constant loop of prayers in his head.

The real question is whether to return and face his wrath now, or to give him a few days to calm down. Although, knowing Dean, it is doubtful he’ll actually become calmer. It’s much more likely that he will become progressively more frustrated as time goes on.

On the other hand, if he reappears now, there is a great likelihood that Dean will, as he would word it, rip his head off. Or worse, he might try to resume what they had been doing.

And that brings up another issue: should he come up with an excuse or tell Dean the truth? Castiel himself doesn’t even know what the truth is.

Castiel runs his hands over his face with a sigh and ponders whether or not being capable of making decisions is worth all the stress. Becoming a non-sentient being seems rather appealing at the moment.

\------

He stays on that bench well into the night, until Dean’s prayers finally stop and the moon begins its descent. There are bats flitting about a nearby lamp post, swooping in to catch unsuspecting bugs. Castiel watches them idly while pondering his predicament.

He comes to the conclusion that he at least needs to ensure that Dean is alright. The hunter tends to make rash decisions when upset, and while Castiel hopes the silence indicates that Dean is sleeping, that very well may not be the case. It takes him another ten minutes to actually convince himself to get going.

A small rush of air accompanies his arrival as he lands in Dean’s room. It is dark, but Castiel can make out the shape of Dean’s body on the bed, the hear the faint sounds of his breathing. He lets out a sigh of relief and lightly sits on the edge of the bed.

Dean would be furious if he knew how often Castiel watched him sleep, but it is one of the few pleasures the angel allows himself. Dean’s presence never fails to soothe him, even in times like this. It’s refreshing to see Dean to relaxed and unburdened as his body catches up on some much-needed rest.

Castiel tries not to think about what had transpired hours ago in this very spot. He had finally, _finally,_ had what he had always wanted right in his hands, only for it to slip away right when reality came rushing in. It is unlikely Dean will want him now, after rushing off like that. And if he somehow still does, well, that will surely change when Dean learns why Cas left, and realizes what that means.

A small whimper jerks Castiel out of his thoughts and he looks up to see Dean shifting restlessly, still deep asleep. His face is scrunched up in displeasure, head turning back and forth slightly as if saying ‘no’. Nightmares, then. Dean is plagued by them far too often. Castiel’s heart clenches in sympathy at the sight.

Seemingly on its own accord, Castiel’s hand closes the gap between them. He rests it gently on Dean’s face, thumb smoothing out the crease between the hunter’s brows. Dean’s body relaxes almost instantly. Castiel smiles faintly as the tension drains out of Dean’s body, grateful that he could do _something_ good for him.

Another small noise escapes Dean’s throat, and before Castiel realizes what is happening Dean’s eyes are blinking open. “Cas?” he asks blearily, only to shoot up as he comes to his senses. “Cas!” The name is much more urgent this time.

Castiel freezes, cursing himself for being caught. Dean is still staring at him expectantly, but all Castiel can get out is an idiotic “Um, yes.”

“Cas, what the _hell_ , man? You can’t just take off like that!”

Castiel glances away guiltily, gnawing on his bottom lip anxiously. “I—there was an urgent matter I needed to attend to. A… another angel, um, called me.”

“Really?” Dean says dryly. Castiel winces. Even he knows that lie was weak at best.

Too late now. “Yes.”

Dean, as expected, lets out a frustrated breath. “Why even bother coming here if you’re just gonna lie to my face? Come on, man, will you please just tell me what’s going on?”

As if Castiel himself has any clue of what’s happening. He looks away, unable to meet Dean’s gaze. The silence in the room is stiflingly, but Castiel can’t for the life of him find anything to say.

“Cas… did I do something wrong?”

The raw vulnerability in his voice makes Castiel’s head snap up. “What?”

Dean is fiddling with the edges of his bedsheets. “Did I… did I hurt you or something? Or—or, I don’t know, mess up somehow?”

“ _No,”_ Castiel says incredulously. He was expecting anger and yelling on Dean’s part, not…this. “Dean, no. This is not your fault, it’s mine. I just couldn’t…” he trails off, unsure how to continue.

“Did you change your mind? About being with me? I mean, I completely understand if you did—God knows you deserve someone better, and we did move kinda fast, so—” Dean cuts off for a split second, blood draining from his face. “Oh god. Cas—I—I didn’t, you know, pressure you into this, did I? Oh fuck, I totally did, I’m so sorry, Cas, I got carried away and that’s no excuse but I—”

“ _Dean!_ ” The hunter cuts off immediately, glancing guiltily up at Castiel. Castiel can’t help but scoot closer and cover Dean’s fidgeting hands with his own. “Dean, look at me,” Castiel urges. Dean complies, albeit reluctantly, and Cas gives him his best impression of a reassuring smile. “As I said before, you have done nothing wrong. I wasn’t pressured in any way, and I am well aware that you would never intentionally do something you know I don’t want. As for your previous worries, no, I did not change my mind about how I feel for you, and I doubt I ever will. I love you, Dean. No matter what.”

Dean flushes red at the words, but seems at least slightly appeased. “But… then why did you leave me?”

Castiel closes his eyes in defeat. If nothing else, Dean deserves the truth. “I… I’m not sure how to explain it, so I ask that you excuse me if this doesn’t make any sense.” He opens his eyes to see Dean nods reassuringly, expression open. Castiel licks his lips nervously and wonders where to start. After a moment of consideration, he deems bluntness to be the best approach. “The thought of you sexually touching me makes me sick.”

Dean physically recoils, hurt etched across his face. Maybe that was _too_ blunt. “No, no, you misunderstand me. I’m sorry, let me try again. It’s not _you._ The thought of _anyone_ touching me in—in that way—repulses me. Even the thought of touching _myself_. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Something must be wrong with me, I don’t know, but when you suggested reciprocating… I panicked. I’m sorry.”

Dean nods absentmindedly, brows scrunched together. “Okay, I… I think I… Oh who am I kidding, I don’t get it.”

Castiel huffs out a bitter laugh at that. “Me neither.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s reassuring,” Dean gripes, but he’s smiling so Castiel doesn’t actually think he’s mad. “I mean… you do want me, right? Romantically?”

“Yes, that much I am certain of.”

“But not sexually?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Dean, you must understand, I so desperately wish that I could, but I just…”

“Huh.” Dean lets out a long sigh. “Okay. But we made out, like, a lot. And you did blow me. Did you not enjoy those things either?”

Castiel shakes his head vigorously. “Oh no, I enjoyed the kissing very much. And I delighted in giving you pleasure, even if I myself didn’t become aroused.”

“What about the grinding? You—the hip rubbing thing?”

An ashamed blush floods Castiel’s face. “I’ll admit, I did find that to be rather… unpleasant.”

Rather than becoming angry or offended, Dean simply nods. “Alright.”

“ _Alright?”_ Castiel repeats incredulously.

“Well, yeah. You can’t help the way you feel, man. I’m just relieved I didn’t actually fuck up somehow.” Dean huffs at Castiel’s disbelieving look. “What, did you think I’d toss you out over this or something?”

Castiel glances away guiltily, because yes, that’s _exactly_ what he’d been thinking.

“Hey,” Dean says softly, “I would never do something like that, alright? It’s gonna take a lot more than something like this to get rid of me. And I really appreciate you telling me all this, man. Must’a took a lot of balls.”

“But… you aren’t angry? Or revolted?”

“Of course not!” Dean says easily. “Why would I be?”

“Because I’m broken, Dean! Something is obviously wrong with me—”

“Hey, none of that.” Dean’s voice is stern, leaving no room for argument. “Look, we’ll figure out what’s going on, okay? Until then just, I don’t know, calm down a bit.”

Castiel can only blink at him, dazed at the turn of events. “I… alright,” he ventures.

Dean gives him a gummy smile. “Good. But uh, in the meantime, I probably should get back to sleep…”

“Of course. I apologize for waking you; I’ll just be on my way.” He moves to stand up but is almost immediately tugged back down as Dean’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist.

“Wait, I mean, I don’t want you to leave...” Dean has the most adorable blush spread across his cheek, hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, unless if you want to, of course. I—never mind, this was stupid—”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts gently, “do you want me to stay?”

“I guess,” comes the grumbled response. Dean’s face is still bright red, and Castiel can’t resist smiling.

He knows he shouldn’t get Dean’s hopes up, shouldn’t lead him on when it’s obvious they can’t be together, but he loathes to deny Dean anything. “Then I’ll stay.”

Dean’s shy smile makes it all worth it.

\--------

The following week, for the most part, is business as usual. They squeeze in two successful hunts and check out a third one that ends up just being some mischievous teenagers.

Castiel, while not actively avoiding Dean, can admit that he has been spending less time with the hunter than usual. The air between them has intensified somehow. To his credit, Dean himself has not acted differently, other than for the fact that Castiel can occasionally feel his gaze on him. But still, there has been no mention of the developments in their relationship, no reference to Castiel’s shameful admission. In fact, he is beginning to wonder if the situation has simply been brushed under the rug, never to be brought up again. It is certainly a more preferred outcome than what Castiel had feared may happen.

And so, as the week dragged on, Castiel slowly let down his guard, thinking nothing would come of the past occurrences.

Which is why it comes as a surprise when Dean requests to talk Saturday evening.

They had just returned to the bunker from a hunt, and Castiel decided to aide Dean in carrying his duffel back to his room, much to Dean’s chagrin. To be honest, Dean was perfectly capable of carrying the bag on his own, but Castiel couldn’t help but want to bask in his presence a little longer.

When they reached Dean’s door Castiel reluctantly handed him the bag, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you for allowing me to help you on the hunt,” he offered.

Dean snorts dismissively. “Dude, I told you to stop thanking us for that crap. Hell, we should be thanking _you_.”

“Still, I appreciate the opportunity to spend the time with you.” Castiel’s eyes widen as the words escaped, certain that he had crossed a line, but Dean only smiles and playful punches his arm.

“You know, you can always hang out with us when we’re _not_ chasing monsters. Sammy and I don’t do much on off days, but we sure wouldn’t mind having you around. That is, if you’re not busy with angel business.” Dean tried to keep his words and expression gruff, but Castiel could still detect a hint of shyness peeking through. It made his chest feel funny.

“Yes, I—I’ll consider it. Thank you.” Truthfully, Castiel hasn’t been on ‘angel business’ in a long time. He was still far from welcome by much of heaven, and instead passed the time he was away exploring the earth and performing minor miracles until the Winchesters beckoned once again.

Sensing that the conversation was over, Castiel straightened and prepared to fly, only to be stopped by Dean’s hand on his sleeve.

“Wait—I was actually gonna see if I could talk to you about something real quick.” Dean appeared to be a combination of eager and nervous, and Castiel was intrigued.

“Of course.”

Dean shot him a relieved smile before leading him into his room, dumping the duffle on the floor near his bed. Castiel hovered nearby, curious about what Dean wanted.

“So,” Dean began cautiously, “I think I figured out what’s going on with you, with, you know, the sex stuff.”

Castiel immediately straightens. “Really? You know what’s wrong with me?”

Dean’s eyebrows pulled together disapprovingly. “For the last time Cas, there’s nothing wrong with you. And I did some searching, and apparently, it’s pretty common. The word for it is asexual, and it just means you don’t wanna do the do. So yeah. That’s it.”

“So we can fix it then, right?” Castiel pressed urgently. “Now that we know what’s wrong with me, we can fix it.”

Dean winced. “Cas this isn’t the kinda thing you can just change. It’s just, you know, a part of you. Like being gay or bi or whatever.

The hope that had been building in Castiel’s chest instantly collapses. He tears his eyes away from Dean’s, shoulders drooping. “Then nothing has changed. I’m still broken, we still can’t be together, and—”

“Woah woah woah, hold your horses, man. First of all, you ain’t broken, okay? Second of all, what the hell does this have to do with us being together?”

Castiel blinks at him. Isn’t it obvious? “Dean, I can’t give you what you need,” he explains. “I can’t be what you need.” His voice is tinged with desperation, but at this point he can’t bring himself to care. Let Dean see how pathetic he really is—it won’t make a difference in the end.

Dean gapes at him, hands gesturing wildly.  “That’s bullshit, Cas! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m entirely capable of surviving without sex.”

Now it’s Castiel’s jaw that drops. “Dean, no. It isn’t fair of me to ask you t —”

Dean, clearly, is having none of it.

“No, you know what is fair? Making the decision for me. I get a say in this, and if this is what I want, then it’s what I want. You aren’t _asking_ me to do anything; I’m _choosing_ to. Free will, remember. Are you really gonna take that away from me _now_?”

Castiel stares blankly at him, at a complete loss. His expression must be quite pitiful because Dean’s eyes soften. “Cas,” he says gently, “do you love me?”

“Of course.” He doesn’t hesitate in the slightest. No matter what, that one fact will always remain true.

A pleased smile tugs at Dean’s face. His posture relaxes incrementally, a tension that Castiel hadn’t even realize was there draining out of Dean’s body. “Good. ‘Cause that’s all I need. The rest of that crap doesn’t matter. And okay, yes, I would love to get you all riled up, but there’s no point to that if you wouldn’t be enjoying it. I don’t mind, Cas. Really.”

Castiel can only shake his head in disbelief. He never fails to underestimate how unpredictable Dean can be. Dean sighs in apparent disappointment at Castiel’s lack of response, and Castiel thinks that this is it: Dean has officially given up on him. But Dean yet again surprises him, stepping forward and sweeping Castiel into a hug.

“Cas,” he murmurs against his neck. The touch sends shivers up Castiel’s spine. “I want you. In whatever way you want to give me. If you really aren’t comfortable with this, then fine, I’ll drop it. But if the only thing holding you back is you thinking I deserve better…” Dean trails off momentarily, squeezing Castiel ever tighter. “Please, Cas.”

His voice is so small, so vulnerable, and how is Castiel supposed to deny him anything when he asks like that? He returns Dean’s embrace, burrowing his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. “Okay, Dean. If this is truly what you want.”

“It is,” Dean implores. “I swear, Cas.”

Castiel smiles despite himself at Dean’s eagerness. “Alright, but I have a few conditions.”

Dean pulls back slightly, just enough so they can look at each other. His eyes are narrowed slightly in suspicion, but he nods. “Okay. Name ‘em.”

“Well, I am still not completely sure what I am comfortable with. If you are amenable, I would like to try out a few more things. Just to further determine what I can and can’t do.”

“What kind of things?”

Castiel blinks. “Oh. Well, I’m not sure. I was under the impression that you would know what to do, as you are the expert on sex.”

Dean snorts at that. “I wouldn’t say I’m an ‘ _expert’_ , but alright. _But_ , you _cannot_ , under _any_ circumstances, pretend to like something just ‘cause you think I want you to. I mean it. I’d rather do nothing at all than unwillingly force you into something you don’t want, capisce?”

Castiel nods solemnly. “Yes, I ‘capisce’.”

“Good. Now, what are your other conditions?”

“There’s only one more,” Castiel assures. “I want you to know that you are free to seek out intercourse with others if you at any point feel the need to.”

Dean wrenches out of his grasp and takes a few steps back, shaking his head vigorously. “Nuh-uh, no way, compadre. Not gonna happen. I’m not sure how you got the impression that I think with my dick, but I do have a brain, you know? There’s no way I’d do that to you.”

“Dean,” Castiel huffs exasperatedly, but Dean isn’t having it.

“I said no, Cas,” he states, voice hard.

“Please, Dean. I’m not saying I _want_ you to seek out others, but I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Dean glares at him for a moment before caving in. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Condition accepted, despite the fact that it will never be used. Ever.”

Castiel breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. But I must admit, I am pleased that you aren’t eager to take advantage the opportunity.”

Dean’s smiles mischievously. “Aw, does Cas get jealous?” he teases.

Castiel blushes slightly in shame, glancing at the floor. He _does_ get jealous. He desires to keep Dean all to himself, despite the fact that he knows that is unfair of him.

“Hey,” Dean says softly, hand guiding Castiel’s chin up. “I’m just messing with you. You won’t need to feel that way ever again, alright? I promise.”

Something pleasant swirls through Castiel’s chest, wrapping around his heart and tugging his lips up into a smile. “Okay,” he says softly.

Dean grins back at him before turning and collapsing onto his bed with a groan. “Man, all this driving around this week is killing me,” he complains.

“I doubt that you are actually in danger of perishing, Dean.”

“Cas, I know that. It’s an expre—” Dean cuts off and lifts his head enough to glare at Castiel. “You’re messing with me.”

It wasn’t a question, but Castiel’s smile is answer enough.

“Christ, Cas, you’re such a dork,” he gripes. But Castiel can tell he is smiling as well, so he figures it’s okay. “Well, are you just gonna stand there all night? Get over here, man.”

Castiel blinks before hesitantly stepping towards the bed. He moves to sit down on the edge, but Dean stops him.

“Nuh-uh. If we’re boyfriends or whatever then that means we get to cuddle. Lay down.”

Amusement fills Castiel’s eyes but he obliges, climbing onto the bed and setting in. Dean in upon him in an instant, clinging to him like an octopus. “Who would have thought,” he muses. “You, the infamous Dean Winchester, requesting to cuddle.”

Dean jabs him in the ribs. “Breathe a word of this to Sam and I won’t hesitate to break up with you.”

A surge of fondness fills Castiel, and he can’t help but surge forward and press a kiss to Dean’s head. Dean blushes endearingly in response, though he tries to hide it.

It’s perfect. All of this is just so perfect, so much more than Castiel ever dared hope for. It’s truly more than he deserves, after the crimes he has committed. The thought sobers Castiel, and he finds himself reaching forward to run a hand through Dean’s hair, allowing the contact to offer him comfort. Dean leans into the touch, and Castiel is instantly reminded of a cat.

“Dean…” he ventures hesitantly. He doesn’t want to break the moment, but he has to be certain. “Are you—”

“I swear to God, Castiel, if you ask if I’m sure one more time…” he mumbles threateningly.

Castiel huffs. Dean’s stubbornness never fails to astound him.

Still, he can’t help but feel reassured by Dean’s response. Maybe he should do as Dean says and trust his judgement. Dean is capable of making his own decisions, and it would do Castiel well to remember that.

With that thought in mind, he allows himself to relax into Dean’s embrace. He still has his doubts, his worries, his fears. But maybe, just maybe, they can get through this together.

 

 

**_FIN_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure whether I like or hate this fic. Particularly the writing style I used. It seems rather…choppy? Is that the word? And very formal at times. But I do feel that it matches how I imagine Castiel’s thought process is. I don’t know, let me you what you guys think. I greatly value your opinions.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
